


Broken Crystals

by Winterstar



Series: The Kent Rogers Cycle [1]
Category: DC Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 11:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4017337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve comes home to the New Avengers' Base, injured and battle weary, but someone is there to greet him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Crystals

**Author's Note:**

> Author blames this on a post on tumblr that I can't even find now. Author is nuts.
> 
> To see a lovely art piece by snowzapped on tumblr go [here](http://snowzapped.tumblr.com/post/130006939990/get-your-boyscout-away-from-my-boyfriend-heh)

He doesn’t command the lights on, but walks into his quarters with less of a stride, more of a limp. This morning had been filled with promise, and the night, as it settles over the New Avengers encampment in Upstate New York, dims that promise considerably. He’ll have to answer questions in the morning – if they give him that much time. He’ll have to prepare for the inquiries. There’s no time to take care of his wounds, the burns along his flank and the slice into the major muscle of his left thigh. It drizzles blood down his leg onto the carpet.

Instead of going to the suite bathroom, he heads toward the console in his room to study the results of the New Avengers confrontation with a new villain. He doesn’t know their names or what they are – but they’re not human.

Human.

He wonders what that even means these days.

“You’re thinking too hard.”

Steve glances into the dark, the shadow is obvious now. He should have known better. “When did you get here?”

“About an hour ago, almost flew over to find you-.”

“Don’t.”

“It wouldn’t have been that difficult for me to be there, you know I want to-.”

Steve turns fully to face him. “No, there’s no way you can do it now. Reveal yourself after what happened in Metropolis. They’re calling for your head.”

“After what happened today, they’re going to be doing much the same for you, Steve. I could have helped.”

“We decided you wouldn’t be part of the Avengers, that it’s too dangerous now.” Steve doesn’t push his hands away when Clark begins to peel the tattered strips of uniform from the wounds on his side. 

Hissing, Clark says, “How long do I have to watch you get hurt? You know, I nearly went into shock when I watched what happened with Ultron, on television. Television for god’s sakes. I could have flown over there and picked up that city and thrown it into space.”

Steve chuckles, and it hurts, causing him to bend over his wound. Through gritted teeth, he says, “That would have been something. They want your head, though. Religious, political, and every other fanatic is after you. You can’t show your face.”

“I show it every day,” Clark says, and eases Steve from the console toward the bathroom.

“As Clark Kent, mild mannered reporter,” Steve replies as Clark settles him on the edge of the Jacuzzi tub. There are memories bubbling up about the tub, about Clark and the warmth of the bath. He smiles as Clark flicks on the light and goes to the medicine cabinet.

“Where’s your first aid kit?”

“Bottom left drawer,” Steve says and starts to tug off the jacket, the undershirt. 

Clark places the first aid kit on the floor and then kneels at Steve’s feet. Reaching up, he helps Steve remove the undershirt and then examines the bruise inflamed burn. “This looks nasty. It’s at least second degree, probably third.”

“It’ll heal,” Steve says but flinches when Clark probes around the edge of the wound. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Clark whispers as he cleans the burn, and applies a soothing lotion with aloe. It won’t do much, but Steve’s polite enough not to point it out. He understands needing to feel useful. 

“I do, you know I do,” Steve says as Clark tapes up the wound and moves onto the more serious one – the slash to his thigh that still sluggishly bleeding all over the bath mat. 

Clark looks up at him, his blue eyes like shards of broken crystals. “I do too, you know, I do too.”

Steve frowns but doesn’t say anything. They both know Clark can’t try and stop what’s happening. While the world will begrudgingly accept the Avengers and enhanced humans, it has been more reluctant to accept Superman. Thor has pointed out the inequity of it, but there’s a huge difference between an alien who has essentially been open about being from another planet and one who hid amongst humans, grew up as a human in the heartland of America. Superman’s history makes people suspicious, guarded, and even violent. 

Clark begins to unbuckle his pants to get at the wound, and a shiver runs down Steve’s spine. “Come on, up on your feet, I have to get these pants off.”

Using Clark’s strong shoulders, Steve balances on his feet as Clark pulls the pants down. Once Steve is sitting again, Clark completely discards the pants after taking off the boots. “You’re a mess.”

There are more bruises to be seen, cuts and scrapes. “I did pretty well. Wanda took a hard hit. She’s in the infirmary.”

“Your team is too young, too inexperienced.” Clark cleans out the slice and shakes his head. “This needs stitches.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Even though it oozes blood, Steve tries to convince Clark to just bandage it.

“I could use a bit of heat, warm it to fuse the tissues. You’re still losing blood.”

“It’s not that much,” Steve says and doesn’t admit just how dizzy and lightheaded he’s felt in the last hour.

“Let me do this,” he says and clenches Steve’s hand. Then he brings the hand to his lips and kisses the palm. “Let me do something to help.”

“Okay,” Steve relents because he could never say no to Clark. Not now, not the first time they met in Britain all those months ago. Clark had gone as a reporter for the Daily Planet, while Steve had been there as a representative of the Avengers – the old Avengers. It had been a Council on the Defense of the Planet. 

Dressed in tuxedos and sporting a beard for most of the conference (Steve had shaved once he had to officially appear) he blended into the crowd. No one was looking for a Captain America with a full mustache and beard. It has actually been Natasha’s idea. For a few weeks before the event, Steve had disappeared from public view and allowed his beard to fully grow in. 

The beard and tux worked. He had been able to move through the crowd, talk to different government representatives and get a feeling for the pulse of their current thoughts on the Avengers and world defense. While he felt a little duplicitous, he also believed the ruse helped him learn a little more about what needed to be done. He’d met Clark there – strangely enough also sporting a beard. 

They’d hit it off, they drank champagne, they both pretended to get drunk. And in the morning they both realized who they woke up next to – it had been enlightening and achingly beautiful in the morning while the night had been rough and raw. 

From then, they kept their relationship a secret, as secret as Clark’s identity. 

“Ready?” he asks, and Steve grips Clark’s shoulder, holds on, and nods as he clenches his jaw. The heat vision hits Steve’s bleeding leg and cauterizes it instantly. It sears and Steve bites back a cry, not wanting to disturb Clark or cause him anymore concern.

Clark slips the glasses back up and says, “Done.”

Steve releases a breath and shudders as he does, but Clark’s there, gathering Steve to his broad chest, cupping his head. “Shhh, it’s over.”

It always amazes Steve how gentle and soft Clark actually is. He falls into Clark’s embrace and turns his head, then taking the glasses away. They are kissing, it isn’t wanton and desirous but tender and loving. Clark seeks not acceptance but assurance that Steve will be all right in the field until such a day that he can find a way to join him. Steve offers himself, fully, totally. A kiss that will need to last them, he hungers for more as he tastes and Clark’s hands slide down his body, offering more, but not asking – because for today they do not have the time. 

As if on cue, a ring buzzes from Steve’s quarters and Clark pulls away, leaning their foreheads together. “Not now.”

“Yes, now,” Steve concedes. “I have to clean up the mess. It’s probably a Senator or the Council.”

“Tell them to go away, you’re injured.”

“Help me up,” Steve says and Clark doesn’t argue, but brings Steve to his feet as he groans against the activity. He limps into the main room and stops at the closet to fish out a shirt and pants.

“You need help with that?” Clark says. “I didn’t even get to finish bandaging you up.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have decided to attack me, then,” Steve says with a wink. “Come on, I need some help.”

“Why don’t you say that when you’re being attacked by bug-eyed aliens?” Clark says but joins Steve in the main quarters to help him dress.

“It amazes me that you don’t know the aliens from the Nine Realms,” Steve says.

“What can I tell you, I’m a farmboy,” Clark says with a smile playing on his lips.

“Excuses, excuses,” Steve says and finishes buttoning up his fly and then shirt. 

The buzzing starts again.

“Steve?”

Both Clark and Steve startle at the sound of Sam in the adjacent room. “What’s that Sam?”

“You have the Council on the phone. They keep calling, want to know about the newest mess,” Sam says and enters without any notice. “What? Who? A reporter? How the hell did he get in here? Get out of here. You want I kick his ass?”

Steve raises his hands and wards Sam off. “No, don’t worry about it. He was just leaving.”

“Come on man, this is a private residence, his private quarters, get out,” Sam snaps.

Steve presses a hand to Sam’s chest to stop him from leaping all over Clark. “Go, tell the Council I will be right there.”

“You sure, I could kick his ass for you,” Sam says and it is truly touching how protective Sam is of Steve.

“Yes, I can handle it.”

All the time Sam is in the room, Clark remains passive. Once he leaves he smiles, that grin that set Steve on fire with those dimples and shining blue eyes. “Stop, that’s not nice.”

“He’s going to kick my ass,” Clark smirks. “Do I have something to worry about?”

“First, you’re worried about Tony, now Sam?” Steve shakes his head. “No, Clark, you have nothing to worry about.”

Clark sidles up to him, slings his arms along around Steve’s waist. “But I do, I do. Next time I see you’re in that much danger, I’m not sitting it out. They could kill you.”

“They won’t.”

Clark shares another kiss, light and harsh at the same time. Steve can follow and give back as much as Clark can offer. They tangle and grapple for a moment until they sink into the long draw of a kiss. Once parted, they are both breathless and wanting. 

“Come back tomorrow night, no one should be here,” Steve murmurs.

“Tomorrow.”

One last kiss, and he’s gone. Steve watches for only a moment, before he gets back to the work at hand. He can wait one more day, one more night to be home again.


End file.
